Information
by tastewithouttalent
Summary: "It's been almost three weeks, now, and Knuckle's just starting to think that they should tell Morel, and soon, or it'll be too awkward to explain how long it's been going on." Morel fulfills his responsibility as a teacher and Knuckle attempts to die of embarrassment. Part 4 and final of Assistance series. Sequel to Soothing.


Knuckle has been being very careful. He doesn't look at Shoot any more than he used to, for one thing. He's totally avoiding even brushing the other man's hand with his own, much less curling their fingers together behind Morel's back. They've only kissed outside of their room twice, both times when Morel was miles away and could never have known, and it's not that Knuckle is deliberately trying to mislead their teacher, and it's not that he thinks the older man would _care_, exactly. It's partially that it's _theirs_, this almost-secret just between himself and Shoot, and it's partially that he has no idea how to bring it up, and it's partially that when they _do_ get their door shut there's this brief hesitation, a flash of tight-strung anticipation before they both come at each other, and they don't even always make it to the bed before Shoot's jerking Knuckle off one-handed or Knuckle's on his knees with Shoot trembling against the wall while Knuckle sucks him off, and that's really _fun_ and he's not quite ready to give it up.

It's been almost three weeks, now, and Knuckle's just starting to think that they _should_ tell Morel, and soon, or it'll be too awkward to explain how long it's been going on. He's thinking about it over dinner, while Shoot is hunched over his notes more than his food and Morel is keeping up pleasant small talk with Knuckle while the younger man not-so-discreetly slips bites off his plate to the pair of dogs alongside his chair. Morel lets both of them indulge in their habits, doesn't comment even when Shoot gets up without ever looking up from his reading and wanders off into the bedroom. Knuckle carefully doesn't watch him go, although he knows for a fact that the other Hunter hasn't spoken a word all evening. He'll distract him thoroughly enough later; better that he be productive while he still can.

Morel leans back in his chair, takes a scrap of meat off his plate and drops his hand down low enough that one of the dogs leverages himself off the floor and comes over to accept it from his fingers. He's watching the dog, and Knuckle's watching him, so the younger man knows Morel's not even looking at him when he says, "So are you and Shoot fucking?"

The world slows in its turning, coasts to a halt in time with Knuckle's breathing. He stares at Morel, blinks once, blinks again. When he draws his hand up from his side to lie flat on the table he can feel every individual movement of muscle in the limb.

After thinking through swallowing, and licking his lips, and rearranging his tongue, and taking a breath, Knuckle manages to say, "What?" in a high breathy tone that answers the basic assumption of Morel's question if not the specifics.

Morel grins and brings his hand back up to the table. "Shoot. Tall kid, lots of hair, one arm? He was just here, I could go ask him instead."

"No." Knuckle shakes his head involuntarily. "No, you'd kill him."

"First person ever to die of embarrassment?" Morel is still grinning. His teeth are very white in comparison to his perpetual sunglasses. Knuckle has never noticed before. "He'd probably manage. And do it without answering the question, too. Which is why I'm asking you instead."

"No." Knuckle's voice comes at a great distance, echoing and cool like a played-back recording. "No, we're not."

"Only technically, then." Morel rubs a hand over his chin like he's thinking over a problem. "That _is_ why I'm asking you, you know. If you aren't yet it's because you don't have the tools, or the information, and as your teacher I really should provide."

"Yet?" Knuckle echoes back in that same surreal tone.

"Of course." Morel tips his head. "You've been together since we went up against the Chimera Ants, right?"

Knuckle blinks. "No."

Morel's eyebrows go up. "No?" He echoes back, low and drawn-out with disbelief.

"We hadn't. I mean." Knuckle's whole face is numb and his heart is starting to beat again, erratically fast with adrenaline. "Shoot kissed me, after, when he was in the hospital. But that was the first time."

"Oh." Morel's grin vanishes into a frown of consideration. "He's a little slower than I thought." He jabs a finger at Knuckle so hard the other man leans back and away. "Or you're less aggressive. Doesn't matter, you worked it out." It's not a question but a declaration, certainty too strong for Knuckle to argue with even if Morel _wasn't_ entirely correct.

"How did you know?" Knuckle asks, shock beginning to give way to pleading confusion.

"Recently? Or all along?" Morel shrugs. "Recently you stopped touching each other entirely. Shoot still looks at you, sometimes, but you barely glance at him, and used to be you'd get up in his face every time you had sometime to say, or you'd have a hand on his shoulder just because. Now you'd think you two barely knew each other, so something changed." He grins. "And for before, well, same thing in reverse. You spent a lot of time trying to get a rise out of him and he spent a whole lot longer watching you and not complaining when you gave him hell. I thought you'd work it out sooner - years ago actually - but no such luck." He sighs. "Lost a bet with Knov on that. You two had better be making up for it now."

Knuckle exhales. It gets strained into a whine in his throat and Morel laughs; Knuckle rocks forward to put his face in his hands. "I think this is the single worst conversation I've ever had."

"You're taking one for the team so Shoot doesn't have to," Morel points out.

Knuckle chuckles, and if it sounds like a panicked wail at least it's a little bit amused. "I am telling myself that and it makes it almost worth it."

"Look." Morel's arms come down over the table and he leans in towards the younger man. "I'm not just trying to embarrass you."

"You're doing a great job of it," Knuckle mumbles into his hands.

"And it is a _highly_ entertaining side-effect." Knuckle can hear Morel's grin without even looking at him. "But you're gonna have to take a deep breath and buckle down to this conversation. We'll never talk about it again but I gotta fulfill my duties as your teacher. Look on the bright side, at least one of you isn't pining for _me_."

It takes Knuckle a minute to catch up to that. "Oh my god. Did Knov -"

"With Palm, yeah. Real relieved you two decided on each other and not on me, I gotta admit." A hand comes down on Knuckle's shoulder. "One other thing before we get into the specifics."

"What?" It comes out gruff with strain but Knuckle can't manage to even attempt to smooth his tone.

"Don't worry about my reaction so much."

Knuckle lifts his head from his hands to look at Morel as his teacher continues. "I'm _happy_ for you two. I mean I'd prefer if you kept things PG while I'm in eyeshot, but you can _touch_ each other. The unfulfilled tension between you right now is driving me insane."

Knuckle laughs weakly. "Understood."

"Good." Morel drops his hand back to the table and leans back in his chair. "You'd better take a deep breath, I'll get through this as fast as I can for you." Knuckle flinches, but he does as Morel suggests.

It doesn't take all that long; he escapes in just a few minutes, although it feels like a week's passed and he's not sure he's _ever_ going to stop blushing. He _does_ have some valuable information, though. When he comes into the bedroom Shoot looks up and immediately and literally drops what he's doing to get to his feet and step forward.

"What happened?" he gasps, reaching out to wrap steadying fingers around the back of Knuckle's neck.

"Don't ask." Knuckle shakes his head. "You really do not want to know."

"O...okay?"

Knuckle takes a breath and shuffles in closer to press his forehead in against Shoot's sharp collarbones. "Morel knows." Shoot's fingers go tense before he continues, "And he doesn't care. He's known for a while. He's happy for us, he says."

"Oh." Shoot's hand relaxes. His fingers start to stroke against the top line of Knuckle's collar. "That's good?"

"Yeah. That's not what…" Knuckle laughs, the absurdity starting to sink in as his embarrassment is pushed back to more manageable levels. "Don't worry about it. Everything's fine."

"Okay." Shoot relaxes, very slightly, like a knot between his shoulders is unwinding. Knuckle wraps his arms around the other man and breathes in against Shoot's shoulder, and when he starts to laugh the hysterical edge softens into actual amusement within the span of a breath.


End file.
